Places

These past two weeks there have been a couple of teams here, so I have had several opportunities to get out and see a little more of La Gonave. And it is beautiful.

The Saline

This past week I helped one team with a VBS they were hosting. They hosted it in one of the neediest areas in town, the Saline or the salt flats. This area lies along the coast and floods often from heavy rains and high tides. The houses there are crumbling from the salt water, and there is always trash and waste in the streets.

But the people are beautiful. The children were great fun as they sang each day, and the pastor was a huge encouragement. We could tell by his big grin and bubbly spirit that he loves God and his congregation.

The team also went back twice to show The Passion of the Christ, and several people accepted Christ at both showings. This is exciting because the need here is so great. We can give away food, clothes, and money every day, and still people go hungry. This can get discouraging, but when you see people coming to know Jesus, it's a good reminder that God's the only one who can meet all our needs.

As a side note, the salt flats is quickly becoming my favorite areas in town because there are so many people to talk to there.

Church

Last Sunday I got to go to church in a small fishing village. We had to take a boat to get there. Then once we arrived, the water was too shallow for our boat to pull up to the dock. Another small boat had to row out and pick us up. It took 3 boats to get us back after church.

But going was a blessing because it showed me another side of Haiti. At one point the secretary was reporting on the monthly offering. One week it was less than 10 goudes, which is about 25 cents! I couldn't help but wonder if the people in the church were giving out of their poverty like the widow gospels.

The Sand Bar

There is a big sand bar just 10 minutes from the coast. We often go there to get away. Well last time we went, I put on goggles and looked at the coral wreath for the 1st time. It was incredible. There were tiny blue, orange, and neon yellow fish everywhere, and waves of sea grass covered the ocean floor. For the first time ever I wished I could breathe underwater. (Next time I'll take a snorkle.)

Mache -- to walk

"Ou vle mache avek mwen apre travay ou?" I carefully pronounced the words I had study all morning, and double checked my note card to make sure I'd said it right. "Do you want walk with me after work?"

I was talking to the only Christian girl my age that I know here, and this was my first real attempt at friendship. I desperately wanted to make sense. Even more than that I wanted to hang out and have a conversation that went beyond hello-how-are-you. My palms sweated a bit as I waited a milisecond for her response.

"Wi."

Whew.

I was pumped at the prospect of having a real friend. And laughed for a few minutes with Marline as we tried to figure out what time to meet and realized that neither one of us is very good at telling time in the other's language.

We did manage to set a time to hang out, and went walking last Thursday for a few hours. It was the highlight of my week. I got to walk through the market, linger in the plaza, and see the Wesleyan school, greeting Marline's friends and relatives all the while.

The fact that neither of us knew all the right words didn't matter (We both carried Creol-English dictionaries as we walked) nor did it matter that men yelled out comments every where we went (I'm still new enough in the community to be a spectacle.) Marline treated me like a friend, and we had a good walk.

Thank you God for a new friend. :)

karate

Last night I was taking my trash to the trash pit, and I saw 8 or 9 hermit crabs on the path. All of them were crawling away from me, scared. Then when I got to the pit I saw a stray dog scrounging around and several lizards scurrying out of the trash. And I thought, oh yeah, I guess I do live in Haiti.



It's funny how quickly I've gotten used to seeing palm trees, palmettos, cacti, and cocroaches. The sounds of the birds and Creole conversations are becoming so familiar that I forget that I'm in another country. I am used to the smell of frying food and burning trash, and I hardly notice the man who shouts on the distant loudspeaker each day.



I still don't know what that sound is, though I hear it everyday...It comes from town. I hear a lot of stuff I don't understand. For example last night, it sounded like someone was holding a karate class just over the wall. I could hear an instructor shouting out commands and a group of people yelling out staccotto responses. Do you think Haitians take karate classes?

Culture Shock

Today I went to the market for the first time. Two other missionaries (Maya and Beth) were taking me so that I could get some of my groceries. As we walked up to the maze of tents and people I thought back to the other markets I'd been to in Guatemala and Swaziland. This market, like those ones was full of vendors selling everything from toothpaste to fish to sandals.

Sheets draped over pieces of wood created a droopy ceiling much like the market place in Disney's Aladin. And men and women sat Indian style on tarps beside their fruit, or they sat on chairs behind their fruit.

As our small group walked through people seemed to lean forward and call to us from every direciton. I could only guess at what they were saying. At one point Maya turned to a group of young people and said in Creole "We speak Creole too." (This much I understood.)

She later explained that she heard the people making fun of us so she wanted to let them know she understood. I watched in awe of her confidence. In the mean time, Beth led us through the tents and explained what could be found in each section. She greeted several of her friends along the way and occassionally asked in Creole "Cambien goude pou sa?" (how much is this.)

And for the first time all week, I really started to freak out inside. What am I doing here? This is what I have to do every time I want an onion?

I wasn't just freaking out b/c I had no clue what was happening, though that was a part of it. I was freaking out b/c I knew I was starting to let go of everything that's been normal and starting to create a new normal.

Someday, I like Beth and Maya will go to the market by myself to pick up a pepper or an onion and to chat with the women working there, and I won't think anything of it.

(Afterward: As soon as I got back from the market, I had to put on some music, fold laundry, and sweep my house. It was very therapeutic for me to realize there are some small things that are still familiar.)

some funny little things

I've officially been in Haiti for 5 days which is just long enough for me to have 5 quirky things to share w/you.

1) There is a little red bug that lives in my bathroom and he has a pattern on his back that looks like a red and black flag.

2) Every time I walk outside I hear the russling of little lizards scurrying away.

3) I buy boxed milk. (If it's not opened you can keep it in the cupboard for months.)

4) The Creole word for cake is the same as the Spanish word for cat. (gato)

5) One of the first things I learned to say in Creole is, "I don't know Creole." (m-pa pale Creole) kind of ironic isn't it?

bonus -- There's a word in Creole that sounds like marmot and has nothing to do with rodents. When I first heard it, I couldn't focus on the sentence and had to giggle at the picture of a rodent I had in my head.

Responding

"Exposure demands a response." ~Chris Heuertz, executive director of Word Made Flesh

I've been exposed to poverty, to hunger, to nakedness, so now what?

Yesterday we drove from Port Au Prince to another town to catch a boat. The roads we drove on were very rugged, speckled with potholes and washed out in several sections. Along them we saw several homes. The homes here all seem t be about the size of a small garage. If I had to guess I would say most of them have 2 rooms. All along the roads people were selling paintings, hand-made crafts, fruit, and anything else that could sit on a table in their front yard.

Once we reached our boat, we then went on to La Gonave, our final destination. We drove again past several small houses where there were naked children playing along the street, while their mothers sold goods. To be honest, I wasn't surprised by any of this.

A few years ago, the shock of these sights would bring me to tears immediately, but today I did not cry. I wrestled. I know my pity and my tears will not change this. Though I'm sure God still likes when we cry over injustice, I want to do more than cry over it.

I want to change it. But I have no idea how. I know just giving money and things isn't enough. That can even do more harm than good if it creates an unhealthy dependence -- think of the short falls of the welfare system (Don't get me wrong when we see the naked we need to cloth them and when we see the hungry we need to feed them...it's about balance). And I know just going and seeing and talking isn't enough. I want to do more.

I want to respond to poverty and injustice as Jesus did. And I want to do this not only in Haiti, while I am living among and making friends with these people. But I want to do it in the U.S. where I live among the wealthiest people in the world. (Yep in the U.S. I'm filthy rich, even w/a part-time job paying $8 an hour.) But how?

Could you pray with me as I wrestle with this? Now that I have been exposed, how should I respond?